


A Cliche is a Wish Your Heart Makes

by Shotgunpicksthemusic



Series: Cliches Make The World Go Round [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions non con but doesn’t contain any because Dean has morals, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 06:23:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2057202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shotgunpicksthemusic/pseuds/Shotgunpicksthemusic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Person A and Person B are at a party together.  Someone tries to roofie Person A’s drink.  My partner is <a href="http://mymusemyflame.tumblr.com/">mymusemyflame</a> who also gave this a look over for me.  I’m glad we are partners, and everyone should hit her blog up!</p><p>It was supposed to be a simple case.  Find who's killing kids and put them down.  Now Dean's naked in bed with a very eager Castiel and no idea  how he'll get out of this one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cliche is a Wish Your Heart Makes

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in response to the prompts handed out by [destielficletchallenge](http://destielficletchallenge.tumblr.com/). They will be hosting another one, and I'll be doing it again, because it was fun. My partner has her ficlet up [Thursday Nights](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2055402). It's wonderful, so check it out! You can pester me on my [tumblr](http://monkeyscomewithme.tumblr.com/) if you'd like. Any reviews, constructive criticism is welcomed and squealed over.

This music sucked. Seriously, horribly, awfully sucked. Dean sipped his beer, which at least was decent, and rubbed his brow. He glanced around the crowded room, gaze immediately seeking Sam or Cas. Sam was in the corner, leaning casually against the wall, smiling at the woman who was gazing adoringly at him. Probably pumping her for information, but it could turn into something more. Maybe he'd finally get some and relax a little. Dean rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck, but the tension didn't ease.

This case was...frustrating. There was truly no other word to describe it. It should have been a simple case, find who or what was killing kids, then kill it. Teenagers were dying, singly or in groups, an accident a month. A car crash of kids who were tipsy, a drowning at a lake party, bonfire and beer and a dare to swim across the lake, a fight over something stupid that quickly went downhill to a stabbing, the causes of death were all over the map.

He and Sam had been searching for days to find a common thread, a reason for this sudden rash of deaths. All the kids were young, the youngest at fourteen, the oldest a day from his nineteenth birthday. They went to different schools, different churches (if they went at all), had different jobs, different circles of friends, even lived in different suburbs of the city. The only thing they found tying all the kids together was the fact that each one had been found with some sort of substance in their blood and symbol drawn on their body.

The police were still identifying the substance, but according to the medical examiner working the cases, it was some type of roofie. The symbol was demonic in origin, according to Cas, drawing the power of the death into the one who drew the symbol. No such luck that it'd be drawn in anything that could be traced, of course. Whoever'd done it had used a freaking Sharpie.

Surprisingly, it was Cas who'd found the connection. He'd been hunting with them lately, claiming he'd nothing better to do at the moment. It did make hunts easier, Dean could admit, but putting up with Sam's alternately expectant and exasperated looks when he and Cas stood too close or touched each other was getting on Dean's nerves.

Privately, he could admit he wanted Cas, had always been fascinated with him, but publicly? Yeah, not going down that road. His fantasies could stay in his dreams and Cas was welcome to stay out of them. If he smiled a bit more frequently, looked a bit longer, touched a bit more, well, that was no one's business but his own.

Cas had discovered that each teen that had died had been to a party. And not just any party, apparently, these parties were _the_ place to be, if you were a teen. Although it was only teens that were dying, these parties were attended by all ages, and that kind of freaked Dean out.

There was an open invitation, once a month, in a huge, elaborate house in the city. They couldn't find who hosted these parties, just that word got around that one was being held and all were welcome to come. When they'd found that there was to be one in just a few days, they'd made sure to attend, hoping to find out who threw these things, who was targeting the kids, and be done with this case.

Dean supposed if he'd have been a 'normal' teen, he'd have gone to parties like this as well. Now, at his age, it was just boring. Loud, pounding music, kids pressed against each other, plenty of alcohol (the only saving grace), too many bodies, too dark, and too much going on. How were they supposed to know who would be the next target? How were they supposed to figure anything out in this chaotic mess?

He searched the crowd for Cas, gaze flowing over the teeming group. Cas was talking to someone, a man with dark blond, short hair. Whatever the man said made Cas laugh and Dean was caught by the sight for the moment, how Cas smiled, how his whole face seemed to light up. He frowned, feeling a rush of...not jealousy. Protectiveness. That's what it was. He was just worried about Cas because the man was awkward and easily confused. That was all.

He wondered if Cas would get lucky, like Sam might, and where would that leave him? He'd almost turned away when he saw someone bump Cas and the man take advantage of that momentary distraction to drop something in Cas's drink. It shouldn't affect him, but if they were using demonic symbols and were working with demons, there was a chance and it wasn't one Dean was willing to take. He started forward, but some kids knocked into him, blocking his view of Cas. He shoved them aside, frantically looking for his friend.

He thought he saw a flash of tan and Cas' (sex)bed hair pass through a doorway. He pushed his way past bumping and grinding kids, ignoring the protests. When he finally made through the door, he took a deep breath, looking around.

This room was even darker, dim blue rope lights lining the ceiling casting a soft, barely there glow. He didn't need to see to know what was happening here, though. Sounds of flesh on flesh, of kissing, groans, moans, and sighs made his cheeks flush and sent a pulsing heat flashing through him.

"Cas?" His voice was loud, even though he'd attempted to whisper. No one replied and he carefully picked his way through the room, determinedly not looking at anyone or anything. Because he wasn't becoming aroused, he was looking for Cas, who didn't seem to be here.

But here was another door, and Dean wasted no time opening it and moving through. This was a huge room, vaulted ceilings, wall to ceiling windows that showed a night time view of a garden, and still a mass of people. Dean shut the door behind him, leaning against it, searching for Cas.

And there he was, near a window. The blond was on one side of him, hand on his arm, leaning in with a flirty smile. There was a dark haired woman whose back was to Dean on the other side of Cas, and Dean almost growled when he saw her slip her arm around Cas's waist.

Cas was lifting his cup to his lips, about to take a sip, when Dean surged forward, calling his name. Startled, Cas stopped, frowning at Dean.

"Well, isn't this a crazy party?" Dean joked as he drew near. He took the cup away from Cas. "You know you shouldn't drink too much. I was wondering where you'd wandered off to. Who are your friends?"

"Jason and Sandra. This is Dean."

Cas looked slightly confused, but Dean could work with that. He smiled tightly as he physically forced his way between Jason and Cas, his smile becoming a smirk when Sandra dropped her arm back to her side.

"This shit is swill, Cas. Did you drink any of it?" He searched Cas's face, trying to see if he were affected by anything.

"A lot," Cas said with a grin. He slipped his arm around Dean, pulling him close and burying his nose in Dean's hair. "It makes me happy. Not as happy as cheeseburgers. Or you. But happy."

"I can tell." Dean was a bit breathless.

"You should try some," Jason said. "It's not as bad as you seem to think it is."

"Really? Don't think so." 

Dean set the cup down on the floor, against the wall. He met Jason's gaze evenly. It didn't make sense, if he and Sandra were the ones attacking teens, why they'd go after Cas.

"Because," Sandra's voice was suddenly right next to Dean's ear, and he felt a pinch in his neck, "it's the childlike behavior, the awkwardness, the easy way they let us approach." Dean's vision began to fuzz, and he clung to Cas, who was giggling. "So much easier than alpha pigs like you."

Dean's breaths were coming in short, painful gasps. He tried to focus on Cas, groaning as his world went black and he felt no more.

~~*~~

His head hurt. Actually, everything hurt. Dean sucked in a breath, taking a moment to catalog his situation. He was lying down somewhere soft, on his side. Someone was in front of him, their back to his front. He had an immediate irrational thought that at least he was the big spoon. His hands were unbound, and actually, his arms were around the body in front of him, their fingers intertwined. Soft hairs tickled his nose, the sweet scent of shampoo almost making him sneeze. One of his legs was trapped between mystery person's, but his other was free. And he realized with a start, they were both naked. He knew, he just knew, who he was currently wrapped around.

"Cas?"

A soft moan was his only answer. He jerked away when Cas pressed against him, giving him room to turn on his back and blink bleary eyes at Dean.

He wasn't surprised to see the symbol drawn on Cas's body, looking down to see the same one on his own chest.

Suddenly, Cas lunged forward, slamming his mouth into Dean's and it fucking hurt. Frowning, Cas pulled slightly away, worry clear on his face. Dean opened his mouth, to say what, he wasn't sure, when Cas tried again. This time the press of lips was gentle. For just a minute, a slim, precious moment, Dean allowed himself to kiss back.

Cas moved closer again, his hands wandering all over Dean's body, stroking and lightly teasing. Dean tried to stop him, but the man was like a freaking octopus and before Dean could prevent it, his hands were on Dean's cock. With a startled shout, Dean practically jumped from the bed, holding a pillow in front of him. Cas lay on the bed, eyes filled with a mix of confusion, desire, and hurt.

"Just stay there," Dean ordered harshly. "Promise, Cas. Promise you'll stay on the bed and keep your hands to yourself."

"Very well," Cas replied. Dean closed his eyes and counted to ten, trying desperately to hold on to his self control when Cas began to stroke himself, tiny whimpers escaping from his parted lips.

Moving gingerly, because really, everything did ache, just some parts of him for different reasons, Dean examined the room. It was small, one door, no windows. Plain tan walls, utilitarian carpet rough under his feet, and the bed was a simple frame, boxspring and mattress, with white sheets and a thin blanket, which was currently thrown on the floor. Dean abandoned the pillow and picked up the blanket, wrapping it around himself.

A loud shaking moan caused him to glance at Cas, who was now spread over the bed, one knee pulled up, the other straight and his head resting against the wall as he stroked his cock. He moaned, his hips thrusting.

"Dean, please!" His voice was wrecked, sending a shiver across Dean's skin.

"No." Dean shook his head, deliberately not looking at Cas.

"Dean, why?" Dean closed his eyes for a moment at the raw need in Cas's voice.

"Because this isn't you, Cas. And it's not gonna be like this." He tried the door. Locked, of course. "I don't get it. If death creates power, then why do this, instead of just killing us?"

"Dean!" 

Dean thunked his head on the wooden door. He refused to look back, to watch Cas come, but the sounds burned into him, every gasp, soft sigh, the low groans.

"Done?" Dean asked, barely able to find his voice.

"I don't feel better."

Dean dared a glance at his angel. Cas stared at him, his eyes blown wide with desire, lips slick where he'd licked them, hands still dancing on his skin.

"Cas, what's going on? What the hell did they give you?" Dean moved closer, but stopped just short of the bed. "I mean, what could make you lose control?"

Cas's eyes widened and he sucked in a sharp breath. He surged towards Dean, startling him. Dean tried to step back, tripped on the blanket and landed hard on his ass. He struggled to get the blanket off, but Cas was on him, pushing him against the floor. He pressed his mouth to the skin below Dean's ear, sucking lightly on the skin, wringing a moan from the man beneath him.

"Succubi," Cas whispered, flicking his tongue against Dean's earlobe, then biting it lightly. "It makes sense. Sex is as powerful as death. Put the two together..."

"And you have quite the battery." Dean finally got his hands free, grabbing Cas's head and searching his face. "We can't do this Cas. I won't."

"Then you both will die."

Dean twisted towards the new voice, unsurprised to see the brunette looking coldly at him, a Beretta pointed at him. Cas seemed to not notice, still grinding on Dean, his mouth barely leaving Dean's skin. He protested, fighting with the men who dragged him away from Dean, but he was unable to break away from them. Dean didn't argue, standing when he was ordered to.

"Why drug him, but not me?"

"We honestly thought you wouldn't be fool enough to turn this down," Sandra said. "Everyone knows your morals when it comes to sex, Winchester."

"He's my friend. I won't rape him," Dean retorted coldly.

"But Dean," Sandra stroked her hand down Cas's face and Dean desperately wanted to rip that hand off, "he wants it. He wants you. And you could have had it. But now you both will die, without ever having each other."

"Not gonna happen."

Sandra only laughed, walking from the room, leaving her men to drag Castiel and Dean behind her. They were taken down a long hallway, through a door and down into a basement. The concrete floor was cold under his feet, and Dean didn't even bother to protest when the blanket was ripped away from him.

"Why is it always chains and dungeons?" he questioned, struggling, but unable to stop the goons from shackling him to the wall.

"Maybe you just have that look," Sandra teased. She moved closer, running her fingers from Dean's stomach to his neck. "You'd look lovely with a collar." 

"Not from you, lady. I got better sense than that. How's this gonna be an accident?"

"You won't even be found," Jason said, stepping into sight. "I told you we should have just killed them outright when our saliva had no effect on him," Jason reprimanded Sandra, who glared at him.

"I wanted to watch them, Jason. The greatest tragedy told as a love story. A human who's hell bound and an angel who's lost heaven. It's poetic and romantic."

"It's a waste of time." Jason approached Cas, who was straining at his shackles. "I'm surprised enough that you fell under our sway." His dark gaze flicked to Dean, who jerked at his chains when Jason pulled an angel blade out. "He must truly be fallen for you, Winchester." He ran the blade up Cas's chest, dragging the tip against his skin, but not hard enough to break it.

"Haven't you bastards learned? I'm gonna get out of here, your ritual's gonna fail, and you're gonna die. This shit never works. Just let us go, I'll kill you quickly, and Cas and I will be on our way." Dean was panicking. Where was Sam? He couldn't just let them hurt Cas!

"Arrogant little worm, aren't you?" Jason came closer, holding up the angel blade. "But you do have a point. The longer we draw this out, the more time there is for something to go wrong."

With no other warning, he shoved the blade deep into Dean's stomach. A flare of pain, intense and overwhelming slammed into Dean. He groaned, dropping his head to his chest, his eyes watering. The blade was pulled out and he could feel the blood running down his body. He felt the tip press against his breast bone and he waited, bracing for the next lance of pain, lifting his head to glare at his tormentor.

A loud shot rang out and Jason stared at him with round eyes, his mouth open in surprise as blood trickled down his temple where a round hole had bloomed. His body crumpled to the floor. Dean couldn't see, his breathing coming in short, labored gasps. He heard more shots and screams. His vision gave out, and for the second time in so few short hours, his world went dark.

~~*~~

"Dean? Come on, Dean, wake up."

That voice was annoying. Why wouldn't it shut up? Dean groaned.

"Dean, I know you're awake."

Groggily, Dean opened his eyes, shooting Sam an irritated look. At least he was in his room at the bunker and not that crappy hotel they'd been staying in.

"See, I knew you were awake!"

"The hell, Sam?" Dean struggled to sit up, another groan escaping when he realized how sore his stomach was. He scrabbled at his shirt, pulling it up to see a thin line where the blade had entered. Just another scar, then, one to add to his collection. "How?"

"Cas. He was weird when I rescued you two, hovering over you more than normally. He carried you here while I stayed behind to clean up. Turns out the two demons were working together. They'd get the teens drugged up, the kids would have sex, then they'd kill them. Double whammy."

"Wait, Cas brought me here? You left me alone with him?"

"Yeah, Dean, I mean, come on. It was Cas."

"Exactly, Sam, it was _Cas_. Hyped on whatever the succubus did to him. Damn it, Sam!"

"Dean, I don't think he did anything other than heal and dress you. I'm kinda glad he did. I saw a bit more of you than I'd like"

"But you didn't see him, Sam, in that room. He was out of control! Dude, what if we...he and I...what if..."

"Then I'd say it was about freaking time," Sam said, moving to the door.

"Not like that!" Dean yelled. "Sam, not like that," he repeated, softly.

"Then call him, Dean. Find out before you assume. And, Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean met Sam's gaze as he paused in the doorway of his room. His brother looked thoughtful and earnest, never a good combination.

"Succubi are particular, picking only a certain type of victim."

"Yeah, and?"

"These two were a mated couple."

"What's that got to do with anything, Sam?"

"They only picked mates, Dean."

With that grenade launched, Sam darted from the room and was gone. Dean swallowed hard, letting that bit sink in. Mates, huh? Like dating? Cause they'd only gone after teens, and teens weren't known for tried and true loves. Maybe it was just desire? They could tell who desired someone and picked that pair? But that would mean Cas really did want Dean, too. And what would Dean do with that?

After knowing what the angel felt like, tasted like, he definitely wanted more. But, let's face it, his track record with relationships was not pretty. And he'd never, never forgive himself if he screwed this up and lost Cas. He _needed_ Cas in his life. He just really wanted him in his bed, too.

He groaned, throwing his head back against his pillow. All these years of denying what he felt, after everything they'd been through, could he risk it all? Was it even a risk? Cas had decidedly proven, over and over again, where his loyalties lay.

"What the hell," Dean muttered. "All or nothing, huh?"

' _Cas, I hope you're listening. I kinda need to talk to you, so if you could see fit to wing your fine feathered ass down here, I'd appreciate it."_

"My ass does not have feathers."

Dean grinned. "I know exactly what parts of you are covered with feathers and what parts aren't, remember?" He sat up on the bed, patting the blanket next to him.

Cas's face was a mask of indifference. He stayed stiff and unmoving. Dean had known his friend long enough to know that he was nervous and uncertain.

"Come on, Cas. I won't bite, that is, unless you want me to."

Cas's blush was fierce and Dean bit back a snicker at the panicked look he shot Dean, but he moved closer, sitting awkwardly beside him.

"I am mortified by my behavior," Cas said quietly, his gaze locked on his hands that were twisting in his lap.

"I'm not." Dean sighed. "Cas, it wasn't ideal, I'll give you that. I mean, I get it if you want to forget this happened. We can do that, you know." Go back to ignoring the want that thrummed through him whenever he was near Cas, go back to the barest of touches, looking but not taking, desiring but doing nothing about it, not crossing that line. "Frankly, that don't sound too good to me. I don't know why you were doped and it didn't work on me, but I..."

"You wouldn't do anything, Dean," Cas interrupted. "You didn't want me."

"Cas, I did, do want you. But drugged like that, you weren't in your right mind. It would have been wrong then to do anything with you. I do want you, Cas, so much. I'm just not sure what you want."

Cas looked up sharply at that, hope rising within him a the gentle look that Dean gave him. He tilted his head, licking his lips, dropping his gaze to Dean's lips.

"I really want to kiss you again," he admitted quietly.

"Then do it," Dean urged, leaning forward.

Closing his eyes, Cas met him halfway, pressing his lips to Dean's. He felt Dean's tongue against his lips and opened up for him. They hadn't done this in that room, and oh, why not? This felt glorious. The slide of tongue against tongue, tasting and testing, pushing. Somehow, his hands found their way to Dean's hair, tugging at the short strands, and he moaned when Dean returned the favor, his fingers buried in Cas's hair.

They pulled away with a gasp, resting their foreheads together, panting, lips barely separated.

"You're not fucked up on anything this time, are you?"

"No, I promise, this is all me."

"Good," Dean said, pressing a soft kiss to Cas's lips. "Wanna do more?"

"Oh, heavens yes."

Dean laughed as Cas all but attacked him, pressing him into his bed.

~~*~~

Sam whistled as he walked down the hall of the bunker, book in hand. He figured he'd check in on Dean. Knowing his brother, it'd take forever for him to actually call Cas, and it'd be a miracle if they spoke of what happened.

"Dean, do you..." he started, pushing Dean's door open without knocking. With a startled shout, he quickly fled, slamming the door behind him and almost running to his own room. He was going to need some brain bleach after this, but even as he tried desperately to forget what he'd seen, he couldn't help but wonder how in the hell did Cas get his wings to do _that?_

~fin


End file.
